


The Offer

by HoneyWhatever



Series: Deals [4]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alfie's POV, Alpha Alfie Solomons, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Feelings, From s2 up to s4, M/M, Omega Tommy, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyWhatever/pseuds/HoneyWhatever
Summary: Their lives through the years since they met up until the moment they decided to live together, told by one Alfie Solomons.-The beginning of the story is set before my AU but its end is connected to part 3.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: Deals [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557646
Comments: 10
Kudos: 154





	The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back with part 4 of this series ♡
> 
> It might seem at the beginning that is not connected to the rest of the AU but I swear it is! This one is from Alfie's perspective.
> 
> Enjoy ♡

When Alfie first heard there was an omega gang leader from Birmingham, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t interested. I mean, can you blame him? There aren’t many omega leaders in his line of work, okay? Now, Alfie ain’t one to judge someone by their second gender, see, he’s better than that but that doesn’t mean he didn’t spear a thought to the omega, wondering why he wasn’t barefoot and pregnant or working in a factory like most male omegas.

Because there were rumors, right, there were rumors about him being a very pretty and feisty omega, with eyes as blue as the sky and deep as the sea, and if one looks like what the rumors describe then why the hell isn’t he popping kid after kid? But that’s not Alfie’s business.

No, his marital status isn’t his business, but it is of his interest to know what his line of action was, so when he heard the Peaky Blinders, with one Thomas Shelby as their fearful leader, were fucking over Billy Kimber and messing with the Italians, with that he felt like he had to meet the guy.

So, he sent him a telegram.

_“Let’s break bread together.”_

* * *

So, they meet, and Alfie’s first thought was that he’s small and tries to look bigger than he can ever dream to be.

His second thought was the man is actually gorgeous and Alfie wants to kiss him hard, he wants to kiss him because even if he looks like shit and his lips are chapped, they still look red and so very fucking inviting. But he doesn’t do that, instead he asks if he wants to try the _bread_ and tries not to feel too proud at the little smiles that escapes the omega’s lips when he sees the bottles instead of actual bread, so he pours him some brown rum and tries not to feel too insulted that he said that shit was “not bad” when in reality is fucking awful.

When they are in the alpha’s office, Alfie tries to rile him up with his ancestry, asking if he lived in a caravan or a tent, but the omega is the perfect image of indifference, it’s fake obviously but he earns some points for keeping calm, so he says “rum is for fun and fucking, isn’t it, so whiskey, now that’s for business.” If the omega understood what he implied, he didn’t show and declined the drink.

“Let’s talk first, eh?” And that’s what they do.

And with that his third thought about Tommy Shelby forms in his head, and that is that he’s fucking arrogant and Alfie wants pushing up against a wall and make him submit to him, instead draws his weapon from the left drawer and points it directly to the omega’s face and yes, his eyes are like the rumors says: as blue as the sky and as deep as the sea, and he also looks so fucking done, like he was fucking expecting Alfie to do just that. That infuriates him more.

And then he starts bleeding from his fucking nose and his right eye looks red, which is a shame really. No one that pretty should be sporting injuries like the ones the peaky boy has. He throws him a cloth, “I always thought you’d have a great, big fucking gold ring in your nose,” now he pictures him naked, on his bed, begging Alfie for his knot, “I’m sorry. Go on. Tell us your plan.” And he does.

* * *

A few weeks later Tommy shows up with a hundred man and Alfie has to greet every single one of them, asking them their names and “profession” just to make sure the fucker will say that they’re bakers, good thing is he gets to see those beautiful eyes again.

“Alright, boy,” Tommy starts once all the men are gather together, each one holding their aprons, “you’ve now all been enrolled as bakers in the Aerated Bread Company of Camden Town.” Then he goes on to tell them that that’s their profession now if anyone asks, that the coppers are on their side but that they always have to carry that piece of paper in case someone who isn’t on their payroll asks, and Alfie can help but look at him, his eyes follow his every move, how he gestures with the hand holding the cigarette. He’s small and yet he holds himself on a way that makes him look bigger that any of those poor excuses of alphas and the betas. Alfie can’t help but be smitten. “Any questions?”

And then some dumb fuck goes and tries to be funny and some of the men laugh, and the omega just looks at him, his inexpressive eyes saying everything, right? _‘They are your men now; you deal with them’_ and so Alfie does.

Alfie takes the opportunity to show off his strength by knocking a man with one punch, he hopes Tommy is looking at his little display. Then he starts to talk about the rules he has: difference between bread and rum isn’t discussed; whatever the superior officers say isn’t discussed either; and Jewish women and Jewish male omegas aren’t available to them.

After that, every man was scattered, and Tommy said his goodbye and left the city.

“Alfie,” Ollie is standing in the middle of his office when he should be overseeing the new men, “was it necessary to knock out that man? Or were you just showing off?”

“Showing off? You think I need to show off my strength to a pretty thing? Get the fuck out of ‘ere, Ollie, go on, go back to work.”

Well, if his dumb right hand noticed that little posturing then maybe a smart man like Tommy Shelby did too.

He didn’t.

* * *

Then he meets with Darby Sabini. And they make a deal; Alfie’s bookies get to go to Epsom Races.

Jewish and Italians in war against the gypsies.

The alpha makes a show of inviting Arthur Shelby, the wild older brother, and some other men to a dinner where they sacrifice a goat and execute Billy Kitchen, framing the Shelby with murder and sending him to prison.

And on Epson day, he gets the wonderful visit of one Tommy Shelby.

“What have you got for me?”

“Signed by the Minister of the Empire himself,” the omega gives him some documents, “which means that you can put your rum in our shipments and no one at Poplar Dock will lift a canvas.”

“You know what, I’m not even going to have my lawyer look at that.” The omega reassures him it’s all legal. “You know what, mate, I trust you. So that’s that. Done.” He pulls out a whiskey bottle, “there is one thing though that we do need to discuss. It says here 20% paid to me of your export business.”

“As we agreed on the telephone.” He sounds mildly annoyed. Cute.

“You see,” Alfie pulls out other document, “I have had my lawyer draw this up for us, just in case.” He stands up and bends over in the desk, getting closer enough to the omega to smell his scent: ripe juniper berries, with a touch of citrus undertones and the warmth of baked treat; Alfie tries not to get distracted by how strong the omega’s scent is, how _fertile_ he smells. “It says right here that 100% of your business goes to me.” He taps the paper for emphasis. “It’s all legal binding. All you have to do is sign the document and transfer the whole lot to me.”

“That’s funny, that is.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you 100% of my business? Why?” Ollie, who had been standing restlessly next to Alfie points a gun to the omega’s face and Tommy only looks bored, raising an eyebrow in the beta’s direction, looking directly at the barrel of the gun.

Alfie makes Ollie put down the gun, the damn boy is too anxious for his own fucking good, but he means well. Most of the time at least.

“Now, when I came on here, Mr. Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoelace. Isn’t that a fact, Ollie? I stopped to tie my shoelace. And while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade under one of your barrels. Mark 15 with wire trip.” Alfie pays attention to his every word while Ollie’s getting even more anxious than before. “And my friend upstairs…well, he’s like one of those anarchists that, uh, they blew up Wall Street, you know? He’s a professional and he’s in charge of the wire. If I don’t walk out that door by the stroke of seven, he’s going to trigger the grenade and…your very combustible rum will blow us all to hell. And I don’t care, ‘cause I’m already dead.”

And just like that Alfie is rock hard under his desk, no threat has ever had such an impact on him nor such a response on his body. Tommy Shelby, soldier, gang leader, gypsy, the meaning of male omega beauty is sitting in front of him with an impassive look on his face while threatening to blow the entire place up (themselves included) and Alfie doesn’t know if is just a bluff or is real and he should fear for his life.

And yet his cock is hard, and his bonfire scent gets a bit thicker, showing off his interest in the man in front of him. Alfie can only think about taking the omega right there on the spot, everything else be damn. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“I bet, 100-1, that you’re fucking lying, mate. That’s my money.”

“Well, you’ve failed to consider the form. I did blow up me own pub for the insurance.”

He knows he’s fucking bluffing, he must be, but with Ollie behaving like a child, Tommy’s incredibly good poker face and his hard-on it’s getting hard to think straight.

“In France, Mr. Solomons, when I was a tunneler, a clay kicker, 1-7-9… I blew up Schwben Hohe. Same kit I’m using today.”

“That’s funny, that. I do know the 1-7-9, and I heard they all got buried.”

“Three of us dug ourselves out.”

“Are you digging yourself out now?”

“Like I’m digging now.”

Alfie whispers a breathy “fuck me” and he offer a 35% deal, luckily the omega agrees and they both stand up and shake on it.

And if later that night Alfie grips his cock tight in his hand and pleasures himself with images of a cocky smirk and blue eyes, and comes with Tommy’s name on his lips… Well, that’s nobody’s business but his own, alright.

* * *

In their line of work, news and rumors travel fast.

When he heard the news about Tommy Shelby having a kid with a beta woman and that he planned on getting married to that same woman, well, he would be lying if he said it didn't bring a pang of pain to his chest, which surprised him because he expected to feel jealous. Don't get him wrong, he definitely felt jealous about somebody else having the omega he wanted to have his wicked fun with, but never expected to feel like he lost something.

Of course, he didn’t receive a wedding invitation, not that he expected to get one but the gesture would’ve been nice, wouldn’t it, Tommy? But it’s fine, he wouldn’t have gone anyways.

One day, he alpha receives the news that Grace Burgess is dead, shot in the chest by an angry Italian.

He feels for the omega, a single father to an infant. That can’t be easy.

So, he sends him flowers as an act of respect for the death of his wife.

At least it wasn’t his mate, omegas and betas can’t form that kind of bond, but Alfie imagines it hurts just the same. A loved one is a loved one no matter the gender.

So, flowers and a threat to take apart his entire operation if he doesn’t come back soon from his grief.

* * *

He gets summoned to Warwickshire by Tommy. And because he’s a nice man he makes small talk with the maid, she tells him that Mr. Shelby shouldn’t drink on their meeting due to a severe head injury, the alpha makes his best to promise her he won’t let him drink.

It’s a lie, he doesn’t stop Tommy from pouring himself some whiskey.

“Word in London is that you can be found wandering the streets of Birmingham stark naked, throwing away money.” Maybe the naked part is just in Alfie’s mind, but the omega doesn’t need to know that. “Also, that you believe that you are powerful enough to summon up Jews of a very particular standing up to the gentile wilderness wherein you live in order for them to do your fucking bidding, mate.”

“And still you came.”

Cocky bastard, he’s lucky he’s pretty.

“Yeah, well, you know, I was passing, wasn’t I?”

Then the omega tells him that because of his _accident_ he now needs glasses to read, which is a damn fucking shame because nothing should ever cover those baby blues. Alfie tells him about the man -the magician- who made him his own pair of glasses and that they make you see into the future.

“You’re fucking about with Russians, isn’t you, you silly boy?

Tommy explains him everything about what’s is going on with the Russians and what they are going to do and what is Alfie’s part in all of it.

“Also, I’m gonna need you to apologize to Arthur.”

“You fucking kidding me?”

“No.” And he looks so sure and Alfie can’t say no when Tommy looks at him with his bright eyes and blinks oh so slowly. So, he apologizes with the omega’s wild brother is his own mocking way, pushing the other alpha’s buttons, and he gets riled up but one look from his little brother calms him down, now ain’t that a nice trick?

No one can resist those eyes.

Once the plan was in motion, and he has spent time surrounded by fucking Russians and their jewelry Alfie can’t help himself and double-crosses Tommy once again because it’s who he is as a person.

But then he meets with Tommy and he gives him a list of names and he gets paid but then Tommy draws a gun at his face, he tells him that he knows he made a deal with the Odd Fellows and double-crossed him, and that he is probably protecting a man who is Tommy’s enemy.

“God himself, he spoke to me. He said, “Alfie, you are meant to have these things.”

“You crossed the line, Alfie.”

“You fucking what?”

“You crossed the line.”

“The line?”

“They’re using my boy!” Now, ain’t that a surprise?

Alfie absolutely did not know they were going to use Tommy’s boy against him, the omega probably should have expected it but still Alfie wasn’t involved in that, and yet when Tommy asks him if he knew he says he did. And then he’s been tackled to the ground and getting chocked by a very angry omega whose instincts are in overdrive. Alfie is not going to lie, that little display was hot, speaks volumes of the good father he is and how good of a mate he would be, but now is not the time to think about mating and having babies, specially because one baby is missing.

Alfie goes on a fucking rampage about line and pacts, yelling at the omega, fucking posturing and Tommy just goes oddly still.

“Well said, Alfie. Well said.”

Alfie groans and feels uncomfortable as the fight leaves his body, then he admits, “I did not know about your boy, though.”

“I know, I saw.” And he walks away, and Alfie can’t do shit but watch him go and frown because what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Days later he finds out the boy was recovered safe and sound, but that Tommy’s entire family goes to prison.

Why can’t that beautiful man catch a fucking break it’ll always be a mystery to Alfie.

* * *

Alfie heard that new Italians are arriving to the city and being hosted by Sabini, but they haven’t made a move to take over London so Alfie isn’t too worried. Yet.

But then he heard that John Shelby was shot in his own fucking house.

So the Italians are here for a vendetta against the Shelby family and Alfie knows how those fucking wops work with their vendettas, he knows they won’t stop until pretty blues and his entire family is dead, which is damn fucking shame but is not Alfie’s problem.

Until Tommy Shelby makes it his problem.

The nerve of the cheeky bastard to show up in his bakery, in the middle of the fucking day, offering something no alpha could ever refuse: a heat. Tommy Shelby’s heat. Now, it would be a lie to say the alpha hadn’t dream about the omega being in heat and begging Alfie to fuck him but this? This proposal sounds too easy.

And then the other man threatened him with taking over a big part of Alfie’s business.

In the end Alfie is too tempted to pass on the opportunity to fuck the most dangerous and most beautiful omega he’s ever seen.

So, he signs the contract and hopes for the best.

* * *

Two weeks he had to wait to claim what Tommy had offered, and those were the longest two weeks Alfie has ever had to endure and he fought in the fucking war, alright? To deal with the impatience, he stressed baked different types of bread and some Jewish desserts his mum used to love.

One evening when he enters his house the subtle smell of the first stages of an omega in heat is the first thing he notices. Right, he forgot he asked Ollie to give Tommy his spare key that day.

Alfie locks all the locks on his door before taking off his hat, kippa, tallit and black coat, and moves from the entrance into the living room. He was about to shout for the omega to make his presence known but stops when he finds him curled up on the sofa wearing what appears to be one of Alfie’s shirt, covered with a blanket and a closed book resting close his hip.

The alpha can’t help the smile that forms on his lips at the sight, Tommy looks completely at ease and years younger too without carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

So Alfie lets him have his sleep and he starts to move around in the kitchen, preparing dinner because he’s a good alpha and he’s going to follow his instincts and feed his omega. It might not be forever, but for a couple of days Tommy is his and he’s going to make the best of it.

He is so focused in cooking that he doesn’t hear the other man walking up to him, “Hello, Alfie,” the voice sounds raspy for the sleep and when the alpha turns to look at him he is immediately hard on his pants. Can you blame him? Tommy is wearing one of Alfie’s undershirt and _only_ that.

They eat dinner and make idle chat, well mostly Alfie does the talking because he can’t help himself, now can he? He makes tea and they set boundaries and when they finally kiss Alfie swears he died and went to heaven.

Five days later, every bone is screaming at him to not let his omega go, but he signed a contract and he has to respect it -although he doesn’t have de best record with those, but this one is different from the rest-. He shuts those thoughts and ignores his instincts and instead he gives Tommy food to take, all the pastries that he knew the omega liked best.

They say their goodbyes and he watch him go.

Alfie also ignores the way his chest hurts.

* * *

They continue with their business, each one doing their thing until Tommy asks him if his nephew is interested in a fight with some gypsy kid, he says yes and they meet in filthy Small Heath and it smells like pig which is definitely not kosher, and one would think that Tommy would be used to the smell but he still looks like he wants to throw up, Alfie wants to ask him if he’s doing okay but stops himself from doing so.

Tommy shows him his gin cellar and feels proud when he asks for Alfie’s input, so the alpha gives him one. “Americans want it sweeter.”

“What have you heard, Alfie?”

“I heard a cop got shot. Who shot him?”

“My kestrel.”

They continue to talk about the Sicilians, how many are there, if they have reinforcements and if they are still using Sabini, which they are.

“Well, the real question is, Alfie, which side are you playing for, eh?” Fucker, he knows damn well he’s playing for Tommy’s side but given their history Alfie can’t blame him for asking.

“Fuck you. What kind of world is it bringing up children where your own mate can ask you that question, eh? Well, truth is, Tommy, you’re going to be fucking dead soon and then your starlings, they will peck you out your blue eyes, won’t they? And the jackdaws, they will steal your gold and your medals and pretty soon it’ll be as if you had never even fucking happened, mate.” Which will be a fucking shame, but it is what it is.

“Alright, you tell Darby Sabini from me that if the Italians win, they are not planning on leaving. And after me, it’ll be him and then you. Then the Titanic. And the fucking mafia, Alfie.” And he sounds so fucking sure, that Alfie has to believe him even if he doesn’t want to. “They’re coming and their here to stay.”

They are interrupted and that’s when he meets Tommy’s solution to his Italian problem, Aberama Gold is his hitman and the father of the gypsy kid his giant of a nephew is going to fight.

“Tommy, when a pikey walks in with a hair like that, you got to ask yourself 'have I made a mistake?'”.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck am I?”

“Who the fuck is this?”

At that, Alfie can’t help himself and starts posturing a bit on his own weird way, “I, my friend, I am the uncle, the protector and the promoter of that fucking thing right there, in whose shadow nothing good nor godly will ever fucking grow.” And he goes on, talking about his nephew being the Southern Counties Welterweight Champion, that he’s of mixed religion and adopted by Satan himself and what not, and he can feel, alright, he can _feel_ that Tommy is amused by his fucking story. “Now, will you offer your son?”

“Name the day, Mr. Shelby.” He likes the kid; he has some balls in him.

After that business is settle Alfie comes back to Camden Town where a few days later he receives the unfortunate visit of one very annoying Italian on his own fucking bakery while his doing his daily shut eye time.

“I have a proposition for you.

“Yeah, I already know what you want.”

They start talking and Alfie tries to cut a deal regarding the exportation to New York of his rum, plus he ask for money regarding the assassination of a dear friend, after he’s done the fucking cunt doesn’t even negotiate, which proves Tommy was right, these people are here to stay.

“ _You plan to kill us all_.” He says in Yiddish so the cunt doesn’t understand him. “Sorry, but we don’t have a deal.”

“ _Pezzo de merda._ You’re going to regret it.” He leaves and Alfie takes a deep breath, forcing his body to relax. He knows everything is about to go to shit.

* * *

The day of the fight he has a conversation with Tommy in the changing room, tells him that Changretta approached him and that Alfie refused to do what the other alpha was asking of him, and that he’s thinking of Margate for a change of scenery. He leaves before the fight is over and days later he hears that the Italians somehow were able to enter the building and got into a fight with the Peaky Blinders, Arthur ends up dead.

Because he already knows that Tommy was right and that the bastards were here to take over everyone’s business after they are done with the omega’s family, Alfie sells his jewelry shop and exports most of his barrels and de rest he simply sells them to whoever is buying, pays every single one of his workers and closes the bakery, filling it with grenades to surprise the living shit out of the fucking Italians. He packs all his clothes, one or two toys for Cyril and together and they fuck off to his new house in Margate and prays that Tommy kill the fuckers first.

He hears days later form Ollie that Arthur Shelby is alive and that he killed Changretta in Tommy’s gin cellar.

Alfie can feel it in his bones. Tommy is going to come after him, he fucked him over one too many times. He just knows it.

Every day Alfie takes his loyal dog on a walk on the beach, stopping on the same spot every time for at least half an hour until one day the omega finally shows up.

But he doesn’t shoot him.

Instead, Tommy tells him he’s pregnant with his child.

Alfie cannot believe his fucking luck. “Did you hear a heartbeat?”

“Stronger and faster than ours.”

Fucking hell, Alfie has been head-over-heels for this beautiful man and now god has blessed him with a child that is theirs. “I’m going to put a mark on your neck and a ring on your finger, Tommy Shelby, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me from doing just that.” He kisses him senseless.

“I don’t want to stop you,” he puts his arms around the other man’s shoulders, his lips barely an inch away from the other’s, “I want you to do that and more, Alfie.” This time is Tommy who starts the kiss, heated yet tender, expressing every feeling they aren't saying out loud.

All this time he’s been falling in love and he had no idea.

“Take me home, Alfie, and claim me as yours.”

And that he does.

* * *

Of course Tommy negotiated a new fucking deal involving where they are going to live, and Alfie can’t even be mad about it. Tommy already has one kid and he has lost too much in his short life, so Alfie accepted the omega’s offer.

That’s why now Alfie finds himself packing once again his clothes, Cyril’s toys and food and a few of his books that are in languages he knows his omega doesn’t speak.

 _His_ omega. Alfie still can’t believe and smiles every time he thinks of him.

Alfie puts all the suitcases in his car, Cyril’s things too, his cane and call for his dumb dog. “You’re about to see your new house, boy, you gonna love it. Yeah, you will. I can already tell you’re going to be running around all the fucking time, eh” he scratches him behind his ears. “Now, hop onto the car, we leavin’”. The dog barks once before doing as told.

Alfie locks the house, sits behind the wheel and starts driving to Warwickshire to start the new chapter of his life. He can’t wait.

* * *

**_[tumblr](https://itshoneywhatever.tumblr.com/) _ **

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it and enjoyed it, please leave a comment and kudos ♡
> 
> As always, if you see any grammatical mistakes please do let me know about them!


End file.
